


The Edge of Control

by Onlytomyhusband (Babylawyer)



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Dom/sub, Domme Claire, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Experimentation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:35:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26340493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babylawyer/pseuds/Onlytomyhusband
Summary: Claire Beauchamp has a proclivity for domination but when she starts dating sweet, innocent Jamie Fraser she pushes that side down. But when it comes up Jamie is interested in trying and she is more than happy to show him the ropes. As she introduces him to the world of BDSM it becomes clear he is also very into it, and their relationship shifts in a way that is very pleasurable for them both.This is an explicit BDSM smut series, with no real plot.
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 68
Kudos: 160





	1. Ready for Love

**Author's Note:**

> TW: references to sexual abuse

It happened naturally, the discussion of her proclivity for domination. One moment she and Jamie were not-so-dry humping on her couch—both gasping, groaning and far too close for how clothed they were—the next Jamie was grimacing, his cheeks stained red as he stilled her rocking hips. It was only then she felt the wet, warmth of his release on his sweatpants.

She'd thought it was just embarrassment at first, but it was deeper. She knew he was saving himself, had learned that their very first date when she tried to invite him in for a nightcap, but what she didn't realize was that he felt as if he'd betrayed that vow by coming because of her, a notion she quickly dispelled. She hadn't thought about it before it happened, they were taking it slow and she's fine with that, but he's twenty-three and she'd (wrongly) assumed he must have gotten off with one of his previous girlfriends. At twenty-three she was in a marriage that was falling apart, the sex the only thing that was holding them together, and even that had its issues.

Jamie was even more innocent than she realized, and there is something so sweet about that, especially because he's letting her corrupt some of it.

She never thought she'd be with someone who was saving themself. She's not the meek and obedient type, was never one to wait to jump into bed, wanting to test out the goods before she got too attached. But she was already attached to Jamie Fraser when he asked her out two months ago, and she liked him too much to not continue with this, despite its limits.

Limits that she didn't fully understand, and that is a no no in her books. So she'd made him talk to her about his limits. He was uncomfortable, she could tell, but he pushed through, recognizing as she did that it was a much needed discussion.

Something about how she prompted him, how she ensured to cover all their bases, must have set something off in his brain because he'd asked in this teasing tone how she was so good at this, if she was an expert in it all. She'd seized the opportunity to tell him she's a Domme, unsure whether her sweet, innocent, virgin boyfriend would even know what that meant, which he did. From porn and that bloody awful Fifty Shades of Grey, so not anything actually helpful, but he had a reference point. That led her to confess that she'd like nothing more than to strap him down and tease the hell out of him, turn him into a desperate, needy mess, but that she wouldn't, not unless he wanted to, and they could make something work within his limits.

Once they worked through his unease over coming, it became clear they could play, and he was interested—she hadn't needed the erection that sprung to life as she described what a scene could entail to know that.

There's an element of holding back to their relationship, sex is a limit for him, so is real pain—which is not a problem for her, she'd always preferred her punishments to be deprivation based not painful. She's only ever hurt people because they liked it, and she only liked it because of the reaction it brought.

That first orgasm Jamie had broke the damn, took away many of the unspoken limits he'd previously had. He's open to oral and manual stimulation, to getting naked with her, to everything but, and they'd done just that to break the tension. She got to see his naked body in all of its glory, and she's ground her slick sex against his rock hard cock until he was begging her come, telling her that he couldn't hold back anymore, that he wanted to please her, then she let go, his orgasm following immediately after hers. After a quick clean up they'd fallen asleep in her bed all cuddled up. She felt closer to him than ever before, and not because of the orgasms, but the honesty, the vulnerability they'd shared and how right it felt to sleep in his arms.

Now here they are, back on her couch sitting side by side, bodies tilted toward each other, setting ground rules so they can play for the first time. She has to fight the impulse to shake, to tap her foot, to physically release some of her nervous energy. She's nervous yes, but in the best of ways, giddy, high, excited. She wants to rock his world, wants to know him in this way he's never shared with anyone. She knows anything will be good—he has next to no experience after all (she does not count his childhood sexual abuse as experience and tries her damn best to dispel that notion from him as well)—but she wants to knock his socks off. He deserves it after everything he's been through. She wants to pleasure him, keep him on that delicious edge until he can't take it anymore, until his every breath is a beg for her to let him come.

They aren't there yet, she won't be pushing too hard today, she doesn't know his body well enough to do what she truly craves, but she's antsy to learn.

First though, they need to talk safe words, and she needs to ensure he's really ready, that he trusts her enough for them to do this. Trust is paramount, he needs to trust that she won't breach his limits, and that she'll stop immediately at his safe word, and she needs to trust that he will use it if he needs it. She's had issues with a partner before who didn't want to use it, who thought it was weak, and that doesn't work.

Jamie Fraser is not a Frank Randall, he's shown her that over and over, but she needs to cover her bases.

Jamie is so strong, in every way, and that only makes her want to dominate him more. She knows he could throw her down and overpower her, but she will be the one in control. Something about the fact that she's the smaller, weaker one but the one in power really turns her on. She learned that the one and only time she dominated a woman, this small little thing that was even smaller than she was. That feeling, it's only amplified with bigger men, and Jamie is the strongest man she's been with.

She will bring this big, strong man who's double her weight (at least) to his knees, have him submit to her every whim, and she cannot wait.

Cannot, but will, because there are things to be discussed, and she has incredible self-control, a necessity given her preferences.

Jamie is nervous too, she can tell, and because he walked here, she wonders for a moment if he had taken some of the edge off. She hadn't thought to tell him no drinking, but she needs him of sound mind if they are going to do this.

It's an odd thing to ask, but necessary. "You didn't calm your nerves with whiskey did you?"

"Nae, mo nighean donn," he breathes, and as always the endearment brings a smile to her face.

"Good. Just so you know, we won't ever do this if we're not sober. Safety is paramount and things get compromised when one of us is intoxicated."

She can see him fidgeting, he's listening intently, but there's a tension in his jaw she doesn't like so she lightens to the mood. "That doesn't mean we can't do _things_ , I'm sure _I'll_ be begging you for things the next time I'm drunk—we just can't play."

"Drinkin' puts ye in the mood, does it?"

She chuckles softly. "That it does. God, the last time I went out with Geillis, it was right after our third date and she was teasing me all night about not getting it on with you. And I… I wanted you so badly. All those sweet garbled messages I sent, that was me resisting the urge to tell you how badly I wanted you."

He laughs then, "Ye ken, you did mention tha' a time or two."

She didn't actually, but it's not at all surprising to her. "And that was nothing, you'll see."

He smirks, "I canna wait."

Not one to miss an opportunity for a euphemism, she quips, "I'd prepare yourself for some waiting, Jamie. It's going to be a long night. And you won't be coming until I say so."

"Aye, Mistress." Jamie's brows arch, "I am to call ye Mistress?"

She raises a brow herself, wondering if that came from the porn he's admitted to watching or if he's been doing research since they discussed this the other night. In any event, "Yes, though I am open to alternative suggestions." She loves the various Gaelic he's been introducing as endearments, loves the sound of it on his tongue, so she wouldn't say no to something like that but, "It just can't be something you'd call me outside of here. No Claire, no sorcha, or mo nighean donn."

She probably butchers those, but to her unrefined ear it sounds exactly like how he says it.

"Mmm, I'll have tae think o' somethin'."

"You do that, but for tonight let's stick with Mistress."

"Mistress Claire or just _Mistress_?"

That sounds far too good on his tongue, everything sounding better in that accent. She regrets for a minute giving him an option before she remembers she can veto anything he suggests. "Just Mistress."

He says nothing in response, just nods, and she knew going into this she needed to lead the conversation, but she can't help but confirm, "You are still okay with trying this, right? We don't have to. We can stop anytime."

"Nae, I want to, I jus'..."

He looks down into his lap and she doesn't want that. She gently caresses his face, waiting until his eyes come back up to meet hers to ask, "What is it?"

He's sheepish as he admits, "I'm a wee bit nervous, ye ken? Not because I dinna want tae, but, I canna imagine I'll be any good at it. I'll try but…"

She smiles broadly at him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips, before pulling back only slightly to whisper into the space between them, "You are already good at it. You respect my wishes, you listen to me. It's that but heightened. And it's our first time, I'm not going to go crazy on you. We'll ease into it."

Then she pulls back more, returning to her original spot, so she can see him clearly as she says, "But you can stop it at any time, for _anything_. Do you know about safe words, Jamie?"

"Aye, I told ye I've seen that movie—"

Which isn't all that helpful, and she reminds him, "Yes, but that's not an accurate portrayal of BDSM, at all. I would feel better if I explained it to you, so I can be sure we are on the same page."

His gorgeous blue eyes crinkle as he smiles at her and nods. He's so beautiful, something she rarely thinks about men, but _he_ is.

"Your safe word is a hard stop, no questions, no explanation necessary—I will stop, _immediately_. It doesn't matter why you say it, if it's I just need a second, I need to be untied, or I need a break or I need to stop. I will stop whatever I am doing at that word. Do you understand that?"

He nods and she continues, "Do you trust me to stop if you say it?" He nods again, "And you would do the same for mine."

"Of course, sorcha. At any hint of protest. I willna hurt ye."

She's charmed by that, shouldn't be because it's what's expected, but is. She raises a brow, and asks, "What if I ask you to hurt me? Will you do it then?"

He grimaces, and she waits with bated breath for his response, wondering if he knows that this is a test. "I… I want tae say yes, but I dinna ken if I could stomach certain things. I dinna want tae hurt ye, Claire, even if ye like it."

His blue eyes are wide and pleading, and it prompts her to ask, "What would you do if you weren't comfortable with something I asked of you?" hoping he'll come up with the right answer.

His lips purse for a minute, then his face lights up, "Well I know ye wouldna ask somethin' of me that wasna within my limits, but if I truly couldna stomach it, I'd use my safe word."

She beams then, a tightness she hadn't realized was in her chest loosening. She leans in, closing the distance between them as she tells him, "Exactly," before pressing another soft whisper of a kiss to his lips.

His lips chase hers and she _tsk_ s, her finger wagging in front of his face as she scolds, "You will take what I give you."

"Yes, Mistress," he breathes, and god, does he know how sexy that is? He must not.

"So what's your safe word, Jamie?" she asks, belatedly realizing she's put him on the spot and offers, "If you can't think of anything, we can use the traffic light system."

"Nae, I have one." She waits, and sure enough a few seconds later he elaborates, "Wentworth, that's my safe word."

Her brow furrows, and she can't help but ask, "Like the show?"

He shakes his head, biting at his lip before explaining. "Nae, um, like the prison… It's where my Uncle Jack is. When he got sent there, well… tha' was the first time I felt safe. Really, truly safe, like nothin' would ever hurt me again, ye ken?"

Her mouth falls open, and she can feel her eyes watering as she reaches for him, needing to hold him, to comfort him, to do something to acknowledge what he's just shared. "Oh, Jamie," she breathes, trying to find the words she wants but everything falls short and she's left with, "Would that bring up… I don't want you to be thinking of that when we—"

His eyes widen, "Nae, that's no'—It's just, when I think safe, when I think of that, of it being over, things stopping… I can pick a different word if it bothers ye—"

She shakes her head. "No, it's beautiful, I just… I, too, don't want to hurt you. And with your past, I trust that you know best, I do, but that doesn't stop me from worrying."

"Ye dinna have to worry about me, mo chridhe. I promise if I need tae stop I'll tell ye. Dinna fash about me."

He's such a sweet man, she feels her heart flutter as he looks at her—thank god she didn't run when he said no sex.

She can't keep the shake out of her voice as she tells him, "I'll try not to."

"What's yours?" he asks, and it takes her a moment to figure out what he's asking of her.

"Stone."

He repeats it softly and adds, "I promise ye, Claire, I'll never break yer trust with that. I will respect yer safe word. I will make sure everything we do is consensual and you want it to happen."

She's going to cry if they keep this up. She's never had someone so understanding, and she doesn't want to dig too deep into why he is this way, she's well aware where that comes from, and that he'd prefer they leave it be. She's just genuinely touched by all of his words.

She takes a breath before speaking, lest she go sappy. "Given that I'm in charge of what you do, that shouldn't be a problem."

"Aye, it shouldna. Are we done talking, Mistress? Or is there more I need tae learn before we begin?"

She ponders that for a minute then decides they can do both. She stands, knowing without looking back that his eyes are on her—likely on her backside, even though this loose dress doesn't do much for it. What she has on under it accentuates all of her assets, and she'll show him in a minute but first…

When she turns back to him, she's shifted her entire demeanour. She's firm and commanding as she tells him, "Take off your shirt, I want to look at you."

It's an order not a suggestion, and she can see from here how he inhales sharply, that Adam's apple she's itching to take a nibble of bobbing before he does as commanded.

Good, he likes this.

He stands, that white t-shirt getting pulled over his head and tossed on her floor, leaving him in dark denim she'd been admiring earlier for how fantastic it makes his ass look.

She's only seen him shirtless a few times, and just as the times before, her breathing picks up as she takes in his fine form.

Then he asks, "Anything else, Mistress?" and a shiver ripples down her body.

She steps in ever so slowly, watching as his breath grows ragged as she approaches.

She's not even a foot away from him, taking in every inch of him with her eyes. His eyes stay on her, are there waiting every time she looks up.

She runs her finger gently up his arm, watching as goosebumps flare. She stops at his shoulder resting her palm there before she runs her fingertips across his chest.

"If you ask something of me, I may or may not grant it. So if it's something you need, and I mean _need_ , not just want badly, I'll need you to use your safeword, so that I know it's not a request."

He swallows heavily, his eyes looking down at her fingers as they ghost back across the firm plain of his chest, lower now, dancing over his nipples with barely there teasing touches.

"I need you to acknowledge when I tell you things," she says as her nails dig into his shoulder to emphasize her point.

He looks up then, his eyes boring into hers as he tells her, "I understand, Mistress."

"Good," she says with a smile before schooling her face and ordering, "Kiss me—"

She barely has the words out before he leans in, his mouth on hers, his hands roaming her body in a way that's sinfully delicious, but just won't do.

Their lips part with a loud smack as she pulls away to scold him. " _What_ did I tell you?"

The way his lips purse and brows furrow has her quelling a smile. "Ye said to kiss you and I did."

The puzzlement in his tone makes her chuckle softly. "And what did I not say?" He's still frowning so she gives it to him, "I didn't say you could touch me."

That confused expression melts away, leaving only that adorable frown. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mistress."

She grabs his hand and squeezes it in hers, "All is forgiven. Tonight's a learning experience, but I won't be so lenient in the future, so pay attention."

"Yes, Mistress, of course, Mistress. I want tae please you, I want tae do as ye say, and only what ye say."

That sends heat flaring down to where she's already damp, and she only barely manages to tamp down the moan she wants to let out in response.

"Kiss me," she commands again and this time that's all he does, even waits for her to tease her tongue against his lower lip before he opens for her, letting her lead all aspects of the kiss. He's a quick learner, and that will make things easier.

For a few minutes all they do is make out, their kisses growing deeper and more frantic as they progress.

It was quite the shock that first time he kissed her, the skill he possessed despite his inexperience. It had her asking where he learned to kiss like that and his _I'm a virgin no' a monk_ had her chuckling softly before his lips claimed hers again and effectively shut her up.

He is good with his tongue, and learned that somewhere, which is very encouraging for other things they've not yet explored. She's going to teach him how to use that tongue on her sex, how to make her writhe and beg and scream, how to lick and suck her clit, but not tonight.

Tonight is about him.

So she commands, "On your knees, at my feet."

She tries and fails to calm her ragged breathing as he sinks down to where he was ordered. His silent obedience is hot as hell, and she hopes to god he likes this as much as he seems to, because she can't imagine going back now. Not now that she's witnessed him submitting to her whims.

He's not quite as she wanted, is on his knees, but the _at her feet_ must have confused him because he seems to be debating where his head should be.

"Knees at my feet, head by my thighs."

He shifts, not touching her, but close as he can be without, then looks up her, and it takes her breath away.

Jamie Fraser on his knees for her is hot as hell.

Her fingers card through his hair, guiding him to settle his head between her hips, trying not to wonder whether he can smell her arousal. She's too keyed up for what she has planned—especially since she doesn't expect him to get her off, hadn't planned on bringing her orgasms in this early.

She could teach him to use her toys, could use that to tease him—it's a hot idea, but probably better suited for another night. She can hold back, she knows she can, and she'll enjoy the hell out of the show, moreso because she's so turned on.

She's still playing with his hair as she reminds him, "You cannot come without my permission."

He nods eagerly, pants, "Yes, Mistress," and she looks down to see a bulge in his pants and decides she wants him naked.

"Strip, then resume your position."

He does as asked, tossing his pants and boxers behind him, and because she can, she makes him go get them and fold them nicely, placing them on the couch before he can resume his position.

When he does, she steps back for a fuller picture, and what a picture it is. He's panting, his eyes wide, cheeks flushed, his hard cock jutting out between his legs.

He's rock solid, and she's barely begun. She cannot wait to see how he is when they really get going.

She warns him not to move as she strips off her dress, leaving her in the white lace-up corset set she chose specifically for this occasion, and the matching choker she tied around her neck.

She smirks proudly at his heady, "Christ alive," as he takes her in. His eyes fixate on her cleavage, more ample than it's ever been thanks to this corset. She may not be able to breathe fully but that gobsmacked look on his face is well worth it.

He doesn't touch, doesn't lean in the inches it would take to connect his lips to her skin, he just waits, like a good submissive.

And because she's a glutton for punishment she commands, "Now kiss my thighs."

* * *

This is hotter than it has right to be. Something about being on his knees for Claire, submitting to her whims has him lighting up like he never has.

He's hard as a rock as he leans in and down to kiss up her thighs. Christ, she has the best legs he's ever seen, and he is a damn lucky man to get to do this, to see this view—that laced up bodysuit hoisting her tits up and making them look absolutely incredible, and the cut of it across her legs making them look even more enticing, something he hadn't realized was possible.

Her breathing hitches as he plants a kiss to her left inner thigh, just above the knee. Though he's achingly hard already, he plays her game, meanders slowly up and up, relishing in the soft moans she lets out and the way her thighs twitch under his attention.

He doesn't need her hissed, "That's good, Jamie," as he approaches the hinge of her thigh to know she's enjoying it, but he damn well enjoys hearing it.

His cock throbs as she breathes, "Like _that_ ," after he takes a chance on a soft suck, figuring that should still count as a kiss.

When he gives a sucking kiss to the join of her hip and thigh, she lets out this guttural groan that has him biting back one of his own.

He wants her so damn badly right now, wants to feel the wet warmth of her slide against his cock like she did the other night, wants to make her let out more of those _noises_ , have her shake and come and cry out.

He hopes to god he gets to see that, but he has no idea what she has planned and it's exciting, in a way he wasn't expecting. He's more into this than he'd realized, but then who wouldn't be? This sinfully gorgeous, passionate woman commanding him, using his body as she sees fit to bring herself pleasure. He's gotten off so many times to the thought of giving her pleasure, and now it's really happening.

He's not scared, not in the slightest, he trusts her, loves her and he knows he can stop this at any time, and that it will actually stop. There's a freedom in it he hadn't expected. As much as she is in control he has control, too, they are working within his boundaries, and if he can't take something all he has to do is breathe that word and it's over.

This will never ever be non-consensual and maybe he has low expectations, but that makes him feel incredible, free and safe.

Her hand pushes his head toward her other leg, and he's happy to take the silent command, kisses up that thigh, causing her to let out more of those wee noises that make him even hotter for her. He could listen to this all day and never tire, could do this all day and never tire. Whatever she wants, it's hers, he wants to give it to her.

Hell, he'd give her a ring now if she'd let him, but he knows she's not ready. Her ex-husband really did a number on her—it's why he hasn't said those three words that he feels so deeply.

She's respected the things he isn't ready for, he will do the same for her.

Besides, it's not as if it's a hardship, he has more with her than he ever expected, and he has faith she'll get there, someday. It hasn't even been all that long, but he was mad for her from the first moment he laid eyes on her. He fell hard and fast, but she is more cautious, and has more reason to be.

He's a patient man, he can keep those words in, until she tells him how she feels. Just like how he will keep it all in tonight until she tells him to let go. He can and will wait for her, for as long as she needs.

When he reaches the hinge of her thigh again he gives this side the same sucking kiss he did the other, smirking proudly as her breath shudders out. Then he waits, and waits, and waits.

His anticipation grows as the silence stretches, and he knows this is all a part of the game, that he just has to wait her out.

He wouldn't have thought waiting here on his knees for her next command would be so sexy, but it really _really_ is.

After what feels like hours, but was probably maximum two minutes, she finally speaks, and just the sound has his cock twitching.

"Sit down on the couch."

He swallows heavily, starts to stand to do so, but there's a hand on his shoulder pressing down.

"I didn't say you could stand."

Heat flashes through him as he realizes he's supposed to crawl over there. Her eyes are predatory as she waits for him to do it.

He thinks he should probably feel ridiculous, but he doesn't, can't when she's looking at him like _that._

When he gets to the couch he crawls up onto it and a peal of laughter rings out from her.

Her voice is low and raspy as she comments, "You didn't need to do it like that, but I do appreciate the attention to detail."

She steps toward him, and his gaze is locked on her, he can't take his eyes off of her. It's like she put a spell on him and he's hypnotized, mesmerized.

When she's a few feet from him, stepping to the side to avoid the coffee table, she murmurs, "Spread your legs," and his eyes roll back as his belly clenches. This is so unbelievably hot, he doesn't think he'll survive it.

Then she kneels between his legs and he nearly dies.

That first lick of her tongue against the length of him has him gasping and bucking his hips. Her hands are on his thighs and her nails dig into them in admonishment—but for what, he's not sure.

She elaborates before starting up again, commanding him to stay still, something he's not sure he'll be able to do.

But he wants to try, wants to do as asked, so he fights the urge to roll his hips as she licks at the underside of him again.

When her tongue teases against the tip of him he _moans_ , his thighs twitching involuntarily at the delicious sensation.

He's already halfway there, and from the way she's smirking proudly, she knows it.

She teases, "I said stay still," as her hand slides up and strokes his cock. God, that's good, he could come from this embarrassingly fast. He thought he was prepared for this, but he wasn't, she's amazing, he knew she would be, but this is fantastic better than he ever imagined—and they've barely begun.

"Sorry, Mistress," he stutters out, trying to keep his attention on her and away from the burning need she's stirring up with those firm, slow strokes.

"You'll stay still for me, won't you? You'll be good for me, right?"

Her thumb rubs over his head as she finishes her question and he nearly breaks right there. He's throbbing, hard and hot in her grasp, her teasing strokes just intensifying his desire for her.

"Yes, Mistress. I'll try, Mistress."

She takes her hand off of his cock, looking him dead in the eye. "If you move again, I'll stop, do you understand me?"

Thank god she stopped wanking him to saying that because he shivers and twitches as he pants _Yes, Mistress,_ his body lighting up in a way it probably shouldn't in response to her threat.

Right there he decides to stop questioning it, it doesn't matter why he gets off on being ordered around, he does, and he knows she enjoys giving the commands, so it's win win.

He wants to obey, and he's going to do his damn best to fulfill her demands.

It's just she's downright magic with her mouth, she slides her tongue down to the base of him, then back up, then sucks him between her lips and _A Dhia._

He starts babbling about how good it feels, unable to control his mouth as he fights not to move.

She pulls off to whisper, "You're lucky I like to hear you," before she swoops back down.

Boy, is he ever because he cannot stop moaning, gasping things like, "This feels—Christ, that's _amazin'_ , dinna stop, oh, so so _good_." It's hard enough to tamp down the twitching, something he's never had a problem with on his own—but he's never been able to make himself feel like _this._

How he ever thought it was a good idea to deny himself this, he'll never understand. This is ecstatic and electric, a feeling like none other, and he is so glad he listened to her when she suggested that this didn't count, that he could keep his virginity and they could still experience pleasure together.

And he is experiencing it, so much of it. He loses himself to her mouth, goes brainless under her attentions until all he can focus on is the ecstasy she's pulling out of him, and the all-consuming need to let it all go.

That he must stay still is the only thought he has, and even that is hazy.

She pulls off him and he whimpers, a desperate, needy sound he almost can't believe he made.

She snickers in response, looking smug, a look she's well earned.

Then she uses her hand to pull back his foreskin and taps her tongue against his sensitive tip, and it's about the best thing he's ever felt—it sends a shock through him and his hips buck in response, a reflex that he cannot stop.

She stops immediately, as he knew she would, but it still leaves him bereft.

Her hands slide up his body, then she's getting up, as she reminds him, "I told you what would happen if you moved."

"I know, I… I'm—"

That would have been an 'I'm sorry' but she cuts it off by climbing onto his lap and kissing him soundly.

He moans into the kiss, longs to touch her, grab her, guide her hips into a rhythm against him, but he's not allowed to do any of that. The denial just makes him want it more, so much so he ends up begging between kisses, "Mmm—please, Mistress—let me— _uh_ —let me touch you."

She pulls away slightly and reaches for his hand, drawing it up to her mouth and kissing his palm, then his wrist. The skin there is sensitive in a way he wasn't expecting and he moans as she nips gently at that spot.

He really expects her to say no, but she leads that hand to her arse, and he groans as he gropes it.

He keeps his other hand down, until she draws it up and onto her. Then he's shameless, grabbing at her fine arse, running his hands up and down her back over the laces on her corset he hopes she'll let him undo. As much as she looks like a wet dream right now, he wants to see her sinfully delicious naked body again.

Her hips start to rock as she kisses him again and the tantalizing friction has him throbbing. He's so hard right now that even the slightest of pressure is sending him reeling.

He wants her so badly, wants to feel her mouth on him again, her hands, the warmth of her against him. He wants anything and everything all at once, but he's also enjoying the delicious ache, and the neediness that accompanies it.

When their next kiss breaks she stills her hips and he manages to stifle his protesting groan just in time for her to ask, "Do you want my mouth again?"

His nod in response is comically fast and vigorous but she doesn't seem to mind, lets out this low chuckle that's all sex.

"What are you willing to do for it?"

"Anything, Mistress."

She raises a brow at that, before sinking down onto her knees on the floor. She strokes his cock in long, firm strokes that both ease the ache and make him want it even more. He is so sensitive right now, it's unreal.

"Tell me how badly you want it."

"Oh, Christ, more than anything—" she does something different on the upstroke and it has everything tightening, as pleasure radiates up his cock and through his belly. "—Oh, that's good. Yer mouth though, it's… A Dhia, it's the _best_. I need to feel it again—" His needs don't really matter and he changes tune just a little. "—Yer amazing at that, I can barely control myself. It's… it's so good, incredibly amazing, best thing I ever felt in my life. I want tae feel it again. Please let me feel it again. Please, Mistress."

She breathes, "That'll do," something he might have questioned if she hadn't swooped down right then, the wet warmth of her mouth engulfing him.

"Oh Christ, that's—" he doesn't get much more out than that because she's working him over hard and fast, a combination of lips and tongue, her hand massaging what her mouth doesn't reach, stroking firmly.

Lord, he's so close already. He knows there is no way she's letting him come yet, but he needs it. Badly. It would be so easy to succumb right now, to let it all go, but then it would be over, and this intense sensation is one he wants to hang onto for as long as he can stand.

They seem to be on the same page with that because she pulls off to command, "Tell me when you hit the edge. Remember I control your orgasms, you come when I say so, and no sooner."

Then she's back on him and it's fantastic. He pants out a _Yes, Mistress_ before his brain goes to mush and all he can focus on is the tension is his cock, on that delicious ache, on how his legs start to shake as the pleasure grows even more intense.

He wants to feel like this all the time, never wants this to end, but after a scant minute he feels himself nearing the point of no return. He tries to cling to the edge, to hold onto the delectable sensation but the urge to come is too great, he cannot hang on anymore. So as much as it pains him, he pants, "So close, Mistress, ye need tae sta—AH—oh."

She gives one last firm suck to him as she pulls off, and it nearly sends him over the edge. His mind and body are reeling, his cock throbbing, still tight and hard, poised for relief that isn't coming anytime soon.

"You did so good, Jamie," she praises as she stands.

Christ, she can't say things like that when he's this close. All she'd have to do is whisper in that low tone and he'd made a mess of himself. If she touches his cock right now, he will lose it.

She leans over and presses a whisper of a kiss to his lips, one he chases as she pulls away.

"Take a breath, Jamie, take whatever time you need, then meet me in the bedroom."

With that, she takes off toward her room and though he wants to follow immediately, he does as she suggested, takes a breath, waits until the need dissipates just a little (he's still desperately horny for her, still desperately needs to come), then follows her into the bedroom.

* * *

When Jamie arrives in the bedroom, she's sitting on the bed, legs crossed demurely, lube, the riding crop and her vibrator beside her. She watches as he takes in her tools, his anticipation evident.

She wasn't planning on bringing her own pleasure into this, but having him babble and beg left a needy ache between her thighs she can't ignore—one that she plans to soothe in a way that will just rile him up even further. He did better than she thought he would earlier, and that just makes her want to push him further.

She's going to make him watch her, have him stroke his cock while she fucks herself with her vibrator, will torture him with the show, because she knows he'll love it.

But first she's going to edge him again, get him nice and desperate like he was on the couch—only then will she make him watch. And if he can't make it through she'll come up with a suitable punishment, perhaps introducing him to the joys of a ruined orgasm. God, she can just imagine his face, that shocked disbelief as he sputters and shoots without any real pleasure.

She uses a softer tone to tell him, "Lie down on the bed when you are ready, Jamie," making it clear that he can take as much time as he needs.

He's still rock hard and riled, swallows heavily at her direction and glances down at her props again before situating himself on the bed as asked.

She knows true pain is a limit but they'd discussed the more pleasurable pain, and he'd been hesitant but curious. He's wearing that same expression now, and she's determined to show him what she meant, show him the pleasure that can come from a hot, stinging thwack when he's right on edge.

If he doesn't like it, that's that—but she thinks he will.

She grabs both the crop and the lube as she straddles his thighs, setting them down beside him as she unties her choker.

The material is thin and flimsy, it more for show than anything—will rip if he thrashes about enough.

"Hands up," she says, then draws his wrists to her headboard. "Grab onto one of the slats."

He does as asked and she uses the fabric to tie him there.

He looks _good_ tied up. He's naked, wound up and entirely at her mercy—this is going to be fun.

She grabs the lube, the coconut oil and not the good stuff because it's edible (since she's planning on taking him in her mouth again later). She melts it in her hands and spreads it onto him and he moans at the first touch, and keeps moaning as she glides a slick hand down him, ensuring he's thoroughly coated.

She strokes him fast and firmly, none of the slow building anticipation of before, this is about bringing him up, and quickly.

To that end, she whispers, "You have no idea how many times I've thought of this, how many times I've fucked myself to thoughts of this. Did you do that too, Jamie?"

He groans and tenses, nodding but not articulating an answer and that just won't do. She keeps stroking him with her right hand, her left grabbing the crop and whapping his nipple, in a way that's not exactly gentle but also not too hard.

He gasps, his brows knotting until she explains, "What did I tell you about acknowledging when I tell you things?"

She slows her strokes then, to a torturously slow speed, an eight count up and down, watching how it makes him shiver.

"Aye, but I… I nodded, was that no' enough?"

Then she stops all together. "Would I be asking you if it were enough?"

"Right, of course, I'm sorry, Mistress. I have…"

She settles her hand back on him, cupping the length of him as her thumb rubs over his head. His breath stutters out in reaction and again when she commands, "Finish your sentence, tell me all about it."

She can tell this is out of his comfort zone, he's so sweet and innocent, her Jamie, but she knows he's wanted her just as desperately as she wanted him, and she's looking forward to loosening his tongue. She has a feeling he's going to be quite the talker once she gets him out of his shell—if the babbling earlier was any indication.

He swallows heavily, looking down at her hand and not at her. "I'd be in bed, sort o' like this, and I'd…" his voice goes quieter as a blush colours his cheeks, "rub off to the thought of ye."

"What would I be doing?"

He flushes harder, and she starts to stroke him again. "I'd imagine my hands were yer hands, that ye were touching me, kissing me—but Christ, the reality is so much better."

"Mmm, on that we agree," she sighs, and he moans, which sends a shiver through her, down to where she is so wet.

Then she asks, "What else would you think of?" as she leans over so her free hand can stroke his face, drawing his eyes back to her. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about, it's just us, and I want to know what you've fantasized about. Want to bring it to life for you, if you'll let me."

Some of the tension in his body releases and he smiles faintly at her, before continuing on in this low tone that _does things_ to her. "I'd imagine yer mouth on me, sucking my cock, I'd think of yer skin, yer naked body, touching and sucking at ye. Of watching you come, of making you come over and over—Christ, Mistress I want tae see it, thought o' it so many times."

Well, isn't that perfect.

She strokes him more firmly making him groan and twitch. "That can be arranged."

She watches as his eyes light up in anticipation and she almost feels bad for how she dashes his hopes with, "Eventually, that is. First, I want to edge you again. Want to see you wild and desperate for me, so close to the edge you can taste it, but you won't come. You'll be good for me, won't you? You'll ride that edge but keep it in for me, won't you?"

He nods, and she leans down to kiss him, breathing, "Good," as she pulls away, then works him over with fast strokes, making him cry out and babble in that way she's rapidly becoming addicted to.

"Oh, Christ, Mistress, please I'm close I— _A Dhia_ —Oh, _Claire_ I…"

The crop is in her free hand in an instant, smacking down across his chiselled abs. "Who?"

His eyes widen, and he looks appropriately chastised as he pants, "Mistress. I… I'm sorry, Mistress."

"You'll get a free pass for that, but just for today. But thank me for it."

"Thank ye, Mistress. Thank ye so much for bein' so good tae me. I… I canna hold on much longer can I… can I come, Mistress?"

Those words are unbelievably sexy coming from his mouth, and it pains her a bit to deny him.

"No, not yet."

" _Oh,_ I… Mistress, please. I canna hold it much longer, I _need_ it. I need tae come, please let me, Mistress."

Her nails dig into him this time, her tone low and hot as she tells him, "You can and you will, because I said so."

He groans at that, his eyes rolling back as she cups his balls, feeling the firm weight of them. They are tight and tense, and he is desperate to come, so hot and hard in her grasp. She _loves_ it.

She strokes him for another minute, watching as he struggles to keep control, how he writhes and thrashes and moans, how his muscles clench and relax, his body fighting the release she's barrelling him toward.

It's so fucking hot and she is throbbing as she watches the show, the bottom of this body suit soaked through from her arousal.

When he stutters out, "I canna, I'm gonna, canna stop it—" she whacks him with the crop making him cry out from the momentary distraction of pain.

It's pleasure-pain, she knows it is, but she still stops to confirm, "You like this, don't you?"

He nods vigorously, and she's about to scold him for not verbalizing when he opens his mouth and pants, "Oh aye."

Then he starts to babble, "Oh, please I canna, so close, so so close, I canna—"

"You can hang on for thirty more seconds, can't you?" she asks sweetly, and his eyes widen as he sucks in a breath.

She's not sure if he'll make it, all desperate and trembling, but she wants to find out.

She counts down, matching her strokes to the count, watching as he grows more and more frantic. It is taking him so much effort to hold back, and it's all for her, because she asked it of him.

He thinks he's going to come at the end of this, she realizes and her sadistic side can't wait to see his reaction when he learns that is not in fact the case.

She swats his chest on every third stroke, loving how it makes him tense and gasp, how he leans into it, how he's so clearly enjoying that bite of pain amidst all the pleasure. She's not hitting him hard, just enough to leave a small reddened mark that will fade by the time she's done with this.

His teeth are gritted when she hits the last ten, his face red, his hips tense and jerky, precum leaking out from his swollen cock.

Then she stops counting down, instead timing each word to a stroke, "You will not come without my permission, you hear me?"

He's breathing heavily as she stops, pulling her hand away and crawling off of him, giving him a moment.

His fists clench and release against the slat in her headboard, his cock twitching and his hips rolling as he tries to reign himself in.

The sheer effort he's putting into this has her throbbing, and god, how did she ever think she wasn't going to get off tonight? There's no way she could go to bed this wound up.

She'll give him a little show, one she'll perform to completion, and then will she get _him_ off.

If he lasts that long.

He still needs another minute or five if he's going to survive what she has planned, and though the idea of making him watch her when he's this wound up is enticing, she wants him to succeed, so has to give him a bit more of a break.

She unties him so he can take his break in comfort, urging him to sit up and stretch out before telling him to wait there for her.

She heads off to the hall closet that stashes her folding chair so he'll have a place to sit. She used to have an armchair in her bedroom for this very purpose, but she'd lost it in the divorce (not that she'd wanted it), and now she thinks it's time to get another. One she can fill with memories of Jamie, free of ghosts.

When she returns, Jamie is sitting up in the same spot waiting for her, watching as she sets the chair a few feet from the bed.

She comes to his side when she finishes, kissing him softly, tenderly, drawing his hands into her hair, letting him comb through her curls as their kisses spin out.

She feels so close to him right now, and though she normally wouldn't check in, she takes a moment to—not because she doesn't trust him, she does, just because it's their first time.

Her voice is soft and not at all domineering as she asks, "How are you doing, Jamie?"

"Amazing, this is… better than I coulda ever expected. Yer killin' me, Mistress."

She knows the answer but still asks, "In a good way?"

He groans, "The best o' ways."

"Just you wait," she teases, pulling away from him and directing him to the chair. "You are going to sit over there, stroking your cock while you watch me."

He groans and his eyes squeeze shut before he hops off the bed and sits down in the chair, legs spread, ready and waiting.

She looks him dead in the eye as she moves to her spot and orders, "You are not to stop stroking, I don't care how fast or firm it is—but you don't stop touching yourself, you hear me?"

His, "Yes, Mistress," is so deliciously eager she has to choke back a moan of her own.

She's so fucking wet and distracted that she forgets for a moment that this a bodysuit, sits down to give him his show, only to realize she needs his assistance first.

She walks toward him, parking herself in his lap before getting him to undo the laces of her corset.

His hands are shaking as he undoes them, and she starts to grind herself against where he's hard and slippery.

This feels so good, even better when he drops his head and his hot breath hits her neck. The delicate brushes as he undoes her corset only serve to turn her on further and by the time he has them undone she's rocking against him as best she can, relishing in the friction where she needs it most.

But it can get better and she stands to shimmy out of her corset when all the laces are undone, leaving it in a pool at his feet as she takes her first deep breath in hours.

She loves the way that corset makes her breasts look, almost falling out every time she breathes, especially when she's worked up. She gets used to the tightness after a while, but god, does it feel good to be free of it.

Then she's back on his lap and if it was good before, this is incredible. She loves being skin to skin with him, feeling his firm body press against hers. She doesn't have the leverage to grind herself off on him, but the rocks she can manage feel amazing, for both of them it seems.

"Oh, Mistress, like tha', that's—Mmm."

She places his hands on her ass again as she kisses him. He helps her rock against him as she bites at his lower lip.

When she sucks on his tongue the sound he lets out is glorious and she knows he's picturing her mouth on his cock, doing just that.

When their kiss breaks, she asks, "Do you like this, Jamie?"

"Like it? I _love_ it. Please dinna stop, Mistress."

She rocks a few more times, building the tension between her thighs, before slowing, shifting and drawing his mouth down to her chest.

He sucks gently, too gently, but all it takes is a gasp of _harder_ and her head gets thrown back as pleasure surges.

"Yes, Jamie, like that," she gasps and the bastard stops.

His words fly out before she can scold him, "I'm sorry, Mistress, I just, can I hold ye up? It's a verra awkward angle, and hard tae do as ye wish."

Oh, that's okay then.

She nods, and his hands are on her ass, hoisting her up so her boobs are right in his face, then he feasts.

She misses being able to rock against him, his every suck adding to the pool of heat and tension in her centre, making her ache for the grinding friction of before.

But she doesn't want to let this go quite yet, breathily orders him to keep going as she moans and encourages him.

By the time she stops him, she's the one trembling, that needy ache between her thighs too hard to ignore.

"I do believe it's time for my show," she whispers, planting one last kiss on his lips before standing and turning toward the bed. As she walks, she knows his eyes are on her arse without turning. When she does turn back to him, settling down on the edge of the bed, he's still staring at her, his hand working over his length in slow, measured strokes.

She makes a show of touching herself, runs her hands through her hair, down her neck, then to her breasts, playing with her nipples as his gaze darkens and his strokes go firmer.

He moans as she tugs at her nipples and she does to, heat flashing through her and settling where she is aching for attention.

She sends her right hand down, her left still teasing her nipple, and all the while she stares at him, watching as they rile him back up.

It's such a hot sight watching him masturbate at her command. She could watch this all day every day for the rest of her life and be a happy woman.

She ghosts her fingers over her clit, gasping at the teasing touch as she watches the intoxicating rhythm of his hand, up down, up down. Her thighs clenching at the way he's starting to vocalize his pleasure in nonsensical babbles.

She grabs her vibrator from its place beside her and they both moan when she turns it on, then again as she rubs it over her clit. Pleasure burns through her at first contact, her hips rolling toward it of their own volition. God, she's close, already, the way he's reacted to her an incredible aphrodisiac.

But she doesn't want to come just yet, wants to wind them both up some more first, so she sinks her vibrator down and off of her clit, shifting back a little for a better angle.

She doesn't ever fuck herself sitting up, it's an awkward position, but she wants to watch Jamie as she does this, so she'll make do.

Or she would if it weren't impossible. With a groan she reaches behind her for two of her pillows, using them to prop up her back so she can still see as she sinks onto them in a half lying down position.

"Watch me," leaves her lips as she slides her vibrator down her sex, and Jamie watches transfixed as it slips inside her easily. She's insanely wet and it only takes a few thrusts before she finds the right angle, the one that has her moaning at every thrust against her g-spot, has her growing closer and closer.

Jamie is enjoying the show, she can see that, but still asks, "Do you like this?"

His breathy, "Yes, Mistress," sends a shiver through her and god, she will never tire of hearing those words on his lips.

She turns up the vibrations a few clicks, not enough to get her off that way, but enough that she starts to go brainless. She watches as he continues to jerk himself, his abs clenching and releasing as he tries to hold it together.

The pressure surges and spirals as the toy thumps against her g-spot—her clit aching, her thighs clenching as everything inside winds up tight.

"Keep watching me," she gasps as a fresh pulse of pleasure ripples.

"Aye, canna keep my eyes off of ye," he says hotly, his strokes slowing as he trembles and moans, his face screwing up as he fights for control.

God, that's so hot. She's so turned on she can feel her pulse in her clit—all it would take is one good rub and she'd be over the edge. Just the thought has her clenching on the toy, sending a shiver of sensation up her spine.

She barely manages to get out, "Tell me what you are thinking right now," through the blissful haze.

His face contorts into an expression that looks like pain, but she knows it's desperate pleasure. He's biting at his lip, his free hand clenching. "Christ, I'm, mmm, so close and ye look so—I can barely look at ye."

"But you will, won't you—mmm—because I asked it of you."

He's shaking as he nods, precum leaking out of him as he clings to that edge. This is so unbelievably erotic, she is so close too, every thump of her vibrator against her g-spot driving her _even closer_.

She's moaning loudly, because she can, because it's so good and because it's killing Jamie. Every time she moans he does too, and he's so tense, is holding himself so tight to keep from coming. When his face contorts again, she can see clearly the effort it's taking him to hold back, which he's doing _for her_ , because _she said so_ and that's what sets her off.

She brings her free hand to rub at her clit, watches his face as heat flares through her, white hot pleasure burning out from inside her, spilling over in intense waves that make her go loose as she comes and comes, finally falling back onto the bed, adjusting the vibrations down and off, but not pulling the toy from herself just yet.

Jamie looks ready to burst, all red-faced and pent up, and she's almost tempted to let him. She's boneless and breathless, utterly satisfied and she wants that for him.

But not quite yet.

She does give mercy to him, tells him to stop his stroking, to cool down before she sets off the grand finale.

Another time she'll make him come of his own actions, but tonight she wants to do it, she just needs to regain some strength, then she'll blow his mind. Literally.

She removes the toy and waits him out. When he's stopped trembling and white knuckling the chair, she gets him to join her on the bed, settling his head at the top on the remaining pillows. She crawls up his body with kisses, careful not to touch his cock, not even graze over it with her skin.

When she reaches his lips she kisses him deeply, and he gives it back just as good, panting as he does.

When she pauses to look at him he is so far gone, and it thrills her.

* * *

Christ, that was the hottest goddamn thing he's ever seen in his life. He has no idea how he lasted through that. He almost lost it when she started coming, his body crying out as it tried to follow her, but he held on, somehow, drawing on a resolve he didn't realize he had.

But he's at the end of his tether, all he can think about is coming, he can focus on nothing else but this intense need for release.

He has never been this hard in his life, has never stopped when he was this close to coming. It hurt him to stop stroking himself, but he wants to obey her, wants to see what she has planned. All of her whims thus far have been incredibly satisfying and he has no doubt the finale will be as well.

But, if she takes him in her mouth again, he will pop, he will not be able to stop it, not after everything, not with how unbelievably skilled she is at that.

She's kissing him and all he can think about is her tongue on his cock, that and the image of her coming minutes before, which he can't think too much on or he's likely to embarrass himself.

It's just she's so incredibly sexy, and she knows it, which only makes it hotter.

He moans into her mouth, high and desperate. You'd think she was doing more than kissing him to make _that_ come out of his mouth, but he's so ridiculously turned on that even this is killing him. Each kiss sends a rippling shiver through his cock, which is in such need that it actually hurts.

Lord, she better be close to finishing this. He loves this blissful torture but it's starting to become less bliss and more torture. If she intends to hold him on edge much longer he'll have to use his safe word. It feels weak and a bit like cheating, but that's what it's for, and he won't do it unless absolutely necessary.

The torture becomes more blissful as she grabs his wrist and bites it again, that shock of pain a surprising delight. She'd told him he'd like this, and was she ever right.

Then she starts down his torso and he moans gratefully, praying to god her intent is as it seems.

He's dying here. And it's not at all helped by how she bites firmly at his nipple. It's so good, too good. Christ, he might come just from this.

Then she does the other side and his whole body shivers under the intensity. He is so close to the edge, and this is only adding to the fervent ache in his cock.

She bites down his abs and his breathing gets even more ragged as she approaches his cock. He's about to explode, but he has the tiniest bit of restraint left, wants, needs to feel her mouth on him again.

She's a bloody tease and laughs at his desperation as he writhes under her skilled attention. Instead of covering his cock with her mouth she licks down the crease of his hip, and they roll up into nothing, as he grits his teeth.

Then she pants, "No coming without permission, and you still don't have permission," and swoops down on him and oh, Christ, she can't, he can't, she has to let him.

All he can do is moan and twitch as she bobs up and down on his cock. He's dizzy with sensation, and it's taking every ounce of his will not to spill into her mouth.

He cannot take it anymore, he can't. He begs, "Ah, Mistress, I need tae—can I—"

"Finish your sentence," she coos as she uses her hand to tease him and he tries desperately not to fall off the edge from the perfect pressure of her hand.

"Oh, Christ, Mistress, please I need—you need tae let me. God, please let me come, please Mistress, I canna, God, I'll do anything. Please, Mistress, please, I want tae be good but I canna when ye—please please let me come. "

He cannot stop it, it's going to happen and screw it, he'll take a punishment for it, he doesn't care, he needs it too badly to stop it.

But she stops leaving him right on edge and, christ, this is, she can't. His mind is reeling and his cock is throbbing—all it would take is one touch and he'd be gone. She can't leave him like this.

He lets out another needy plea to come, and she orders, "Come for me, Jamie," which makes his eyes roll back.

Thank Christ.

She immediately lowers her head back to him, and bobbing up and down the way he was loving before. It's not ten seconds before he explodes, pleasure shooting out from the base of his cock up his spine leaving him weightless. He's all body, all ecstasy, crying out loudly and shaking as he spurts into her mouth. He comes harder than he ever has in his life as she swallows every last drop. It seems to go on forever, her mouth drawing out more and more of those torrents.

He's still crying out and shaking as the spurts stop, the pleasure somehow still burning through him and bless her, she keeps sucking him, keeps moving her hand, drawing out more and more sensation until it's too much and he bucks and gasps in oversensitivity.

His eyes close as she releases him, and there are tears in them he doesn't remember shedding, his body flopping limply against her sheets as he breathes heavily. He is utterly spent, all blissed out and boneless because of her doing. Incapable of doing anything but lying here and basking.

He feels her tucking herself into the crook of his arm as he tries to calm his rapid breathing.

He wants her closer, but can't seem to cajole his limbs at the moment, so all he does is sigh, his eyes still closed as he says, "Tha mi 'n dùil sgàin mo chridhe."

He feels her palm rub over his chest, and it's gentle and soothing. So much so that he almost misses her whispered, "What did you say?"

He opens his eyes then to look at her, smiling softly at this beautiful marvel he is so lucky to have in his life. "I said I thought my heart was going to burst."

She smiles back at him, and his broadens in response as he pulls her tighter to him, his arms finally working again.

She sighs pleasantly, then asks, "And how do you feel now?"

His heart swells with affection for her, and he has to bite back an 'I love you'. How does he even describe what he's feeling now? Words don't do justice to what that was.

"I… ye make me feel like God himself."

She bursts out laughing and maybe he should be offended but she's so damn beautiful and he swears he falls even more in love with her as she tries and fails to tamp down her snickers.

"It's okay, mo nighean donn, ye can laugh, twas verra silly."

She rubs her hand and up and down his chest as she giggles, "It was, but I take it to be a good thing."

"Yes, verra good, the best I ever…"

She smiles up at him then plants a soft kiss to his chest. Her voice is more tentative than it has been all night as she asks, "So would you want to do this again sometime?"

"Aye, I would."


	2. 2. Sassenach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their second time out is a little rockier than the first after Claire's efforts to avoid a trigger end up setting it off. They both need to relieve the tension and decide to do so in the most pleasurable way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: vague references to childhood sexual abuse

They hadn't discussed _everything_ that first time, she didn't see a point in giving him a thorough contract and explaining the more obscure acts to him if he wasn't interested. That, and she was a little afraid she'd scare him off if they went in depth into everything all at once. It's one thing to go through it when you already know some things you like, it's another to do it without context.

But he did like it, and he got to try some new things that broadened his horizons. And since he wants to do this for real, they are going to do it properly.

It's time to introduce him to checklists.

She takes time looking over the template and decides to fill in a copy with her own hard and soft limits. She worries the list will be overwhelming for Jamie and she wants him to know that he's not the only one with limits. She doesn't want him pushing himself because she's more experienced, she has no's herself, lots of them, and she thinks knowing that will help.

She may be calling the shots in the bedroom, but she wants him to know her in this way, too. While her own list of limits is something she's done before, some of her preferences have changed thanks to her asshole of an ex-husband—and there are some things she just wouldn't feel comfortable doing to Jamie, not yet anyway.

For the most part, the things she's done before but are not sure of with him become soft limits. But there's one glaring red line she's never put before.

Whipping.

She just can't, not with what she knows about what his uncle did to him as a child. She can't imagine that he would want it anyway, but if he did, she couldn't stomach it, not with the faint scars that still line his back from that abusive psychopath.

His scars are faint, so faint you can't see them unless you are up close or looking for them—she never would have noticed them if he hadn't pointed them out. But he's self-conscious about them, sees them as more than they are, as glaring visible wounds that marr his whole back.

He had warned her about them right before he took his shirt off in her presence for the first time. It was at the beach on their third date and she'd then realized why he'd been so uncomfortable since they arrived. The beach had been her idea, and he hadn't wanted to say no to her, that's the kind of man he is.

He doesn't like to show his back, feels like everyone is looking and judging, but he did for her. He took off his shirt and bared his visible scars, then later that night the invisible, sharing with her the things he doesn't talk to anyone about.

He can bear his scars for her, all of them, and she will not shy away. She will rub, soothe and balm in any and every way she can. He feels safe enough to tell her, to trust her enough to be truly open about himself. He was naked for her far before she ever actually saw him in the nude, he poured his soul out for her and she drank it down like fine wine. He was stunningly open and vulnerable in a way that moved her to tears.

Such a good man should not have had to go through something so terrible—not that anyone should—but she was and still is so angry on his behalf. No one should ever hurt someone like that, ever.

She cannot heal, though she wants to, desperately, but she can nurse, and so that she does. She guides and supports as best she can, offers her sympathy, rage and change of the subject when he needs it. She knows he doesn't like for her to make a big deal of it, so she tries not to. She doesn't think one hard limit is making a big deal of it, it is a special consideration of his past which he also doesn't like, but in this circumstance, it's impossible not to and surely he will understand.

* * *

When Claire asked him over for an early dinner and "dessert" he hadn't expected to be given paperwork to review. They'd eaten first, she'd ordered in and once they finished she'd given him a formal list of limits to go through and discuss, pouring a whiskey for the both of them.

He takes his first sip as she explains to him the purpose of the list, to ensure they are always acting within their limits, and how it can grow, evolve and be revisited at any time. That it's just a starting point, but he can be assured anything that's a hard limit will never be broached in play.

It all makes sense, but he's oddly nervous as he opens the checklist, as if a list of things they could try will be scary.

He's being ridiculous, and he knows it. Claire would never hurt him, and would never judge him for things he didn't want to do. So he takes another swallow, feels the warmth slide down his chest and imagines it easing the tension that has no right to be there.

Okay, here he goes.

At the top is Claire Beauchamp and Jamie Fraser written in her loopy scrawl and it makes him smile, this little personalization on what's clearly a template.

He reads through the instructions carefully, but all he can think when he spies that Claire Beauchamp at the top of each page is _thank christ she never changed her name_. He knows it caused many problems with her bastard of an ex-husband, but he could not handle it if she were Claire Randall. She's a Beauchamp, and had the good sense to stick to her guns on that one—further "emasculating" her sorry excuse of a partner.

Said partner who never said anything about a relative in prison. Randall is a popular surname, but he'd caught a glimpse of a picture of Frank, and he's the spitting image of Jack Randall—there's no way they aren't family. It sent a shiver down his spine when he saw it, and he hates that even now, years later, just the sight of someone who looks like him affects him so much. He wants to be over it, really and truly and does feel that way sometimes, that he's finally free of his trauma, and it's usually when he thinks that it comes and smacks him hard across the face again.

It's not something he talks about, in fact he can count on one hand the people he's talked to about it, and still have fingers left. The majority of people in his life don't know about it, and that's how he likes it normally, but for some reason with Claire it was different. He felt a surprising urge to share, to open himself up to her, to let her see every broken and messed up part. She didn't shy away from it, doesn't shy away from it, and she makes him feel heard, supported and safe, things he never thought he'd associate with revealing his past. Where he worried about drowning her, she asked for him to pull her out farther and take her down with him.

She is different, they are different, he has never felt this comfortable with anyone, and he is madly in love with her—with all of her, including this incredibly hot dominant side of her.

She's given him her list to review first, something that surprises him because she's the one in charge here, but oddly it helps settle his nerves. Seeing that there are things she's not into or won't do makes him feel better about all the things he's already thinking of marking as hard limits.

He reviews her first page, then turns to his, pleased to find that despite his inexperience he has about the same number of hard nos as she does, and better yet that their interests line up. All the things that had made him cringe like branding, brown showers and caning had been marked as hard nos for her too. He says yes to soft beating, biting, blindfolds, bondage and soft breath play (that last one coming as a bit of a shock to him, but the idea of Claire's hands wrapped around his neck was surprisingly hot).

When he gets to page two and sees choking as a separate item he has to ask his first question of the night. He's shocked by all he learns about breath play, and not at all surprised when she says most of it is unsafe, which is why it was a limit on her sheet. She's a soon-to-be doctor, and would never do anything that intentionally inflicts damage, it's against her nature and her professional obligations, and that's part of why he's okay with things like beatings. She knows the human body better than most and will use that knowledge to their advantage.

They talk out what he actually wants and finds arousing about choking, with Claire assuring him she can make that work. Something about the coy smile she gives him as she does sends blood rushing south, or maybe that's the image of her hands on his neck, who knows.

The rest of the list progresses in a similar manner, with him stopping to ask about the terms he's not aware of, and asking for clarification on a few he thought he knew just to be sure. It takes a while and there are some things he still has to think on, ones she assured him he can leave blank for now and she won't touch them unless he later marks them down as okay.

He knows that this is not normally how sexual activity goes, even with his inexperience he's sure of that, but it's so freeing knowing exactly what he's agreed to and what she's into.

It all goes well until he hits the second last item on the list.

Whipping.

She's marked it as a limit and gone as far as scratching it off on his.

His reaction is immediate and visceral. Anger burns through him and he slaps the lists down onto the table, his breath coming out quick and sharp. He's angry, so angry, and he doesn't even know why, but it's there festering, bubbling out of him in a way he cannot stop.

"Jamie, what's wrong?" Claire asks, and it takes everything in him not to snap at her.

He bites out a terse, "Nothing," and the way she side-eyes him has him letting out a frustrated huff. Don't yell at her, _don't do it_ is the mantra in his mind as he hisses, "Why would you—how could you?"

"Jamie, _what_ is wrong?"

"You-you-you," he can't even say it because he's going to explode and he knows that should not happen. He is clenching his fists, trying to get his riotous emotions in check before he does something stupid, but it's only getting worse by the second.

He _has_ to get this under control, now. But the fact that he can't is making him even angrier, and he is a powder keg right now. This is bad, so bad, fuck he wants to scream and yell so badly right now. Claire's still wide-eyed and looks almost afraid, and that pushes him to point to it on the list, like that will somehow explain something to her when he doesn't even understand this reaction.

But her eyes light up with recognition, and she asks softly, "Do you need a minute?"

He chugs the rest of his whiskey, takes a breath and nods, not wanting to say anything because he knows he will regret anything that comes out of his mouth when he's this shaken up.

He hasn't been angry like this in ages, it used to happen to him often when he was younger, these seemingly-random-but-actually-not-so angry outbursts, but he thought he was over them. Thought he was over this, and fuck this.

He tries to dig back into his therapy toolbox, but it's been a long time. He takes a deep breath, but his chest is so tight that trying to loosen it with breath doesn't work and just adds to his frustration.

He needs to go for a walk, a run really. He won't just walk out, he needs to tell her he's leaving and that he'll be back, or at least he thinks he will. Even while this angry, her feelings are important to him and he doesn't want to upset her, though how could he have not already.

Fuck, he hates this. Hates that it is taking away this too, and that need to scream is only growing as he tries to break himself out of it.

He gives her a grunt and gestures toward the front door, and she nods, asking him if he'll be back.

He answers, "I don't know," leaving before he can say anything else and screw this up more than he already has.

* * *

She really doesn't understand what just happened and she is very worried. She thinks that she triggered him, which was not her intention, the opposite of it in fact, and now she doesn't know what to do.

She itches to text him, to call him, to ensure he's okay, but he's made it pretty clear he needs to be alone right now and she needs to respect that.

But she'd be lying if she said she didn't spend the whole time he was gone anxiously twiddling her thumbs, thinking through exactly what she did and said and how she could have approached it differently to avoid this. A pointless endeavour because what happened happened, but that doesn't stop her brain from swirling and replaying the conversation in her head with subtle differences that somehow change everything.

Jamie's gone for half an hour at max, but it feels like so much longer. When she hears her front door open she nearly cries with relief, not knowing what she would have done if he didn't come back.

This is not about her, she will not make it about her, so she waits for his cue. He doesn't say anything as he settles beside her on the couch, but he does take her hand and she takes comfort in that.

She blows out a breath and asks, "Are you still angry with me?"

Well, so much for not making it about her, she curses herself as soon as the words are out of her mouth. Why would she say that? That is _not_ helpful, at all.

He shakes his head, "I'm still a wee bit off… but no, and I wasna, I mean…"

This may be digging her own grave, but she's already messed this all up and she has to know, "Were you angry because I did it or because of why I did it?"

Jamie looks up at her for the first time, his brows wrinkling, "Why does tha' matter?"

"To me it makes all the difference, I'm trying to understand where that came from so I don't hurt you again."

That is so important to her and she hopes that he knows that. Hopes that he can see past the selfishness here to find her true intent.

His expression softens, melts into this shy, touched smile, and he presses a kiss to her forehead before speaking. "Och, no, sorcha, ye dinna… it wasna you. I canna explain it, it just happened, and I didna want tae make it worse. When I get angry like tha' I just have tae walk it off or I'll say things I dinna mean and I dinna want tae hurt ye. I left to protect ye from me, no' the other way around."

"If that's what you need, you have it, any time, no questions asked."

His other hand comes to clasp over hers, "Thank you. I dinna think I'll need it, hope I willna need it, but tha's good tae ken."

She chews at her bottom lip. "Do you want to, and you don't have to, please know that, but did you want to talk about it?"

"Nae, no' in the slightest."

She wants to, wants to know where that came from, but this is not about her, and she has already made that mistake once today, so she nods. "What do you want to do?"

"I… I could use a distraction, ye ken, somethin' tae get me outta my head…"

She can think of a great way to do that, and it would go a long way to soothe herself as well. But first she wants to ensure, "Are you sure you are okay? You don't have to hide it from me if you aren't. With me, you are allowed to be not okay, I don't want you to ever feel like you have to fake feeling good."

A smile blooms across his face. "I ken, mo nighean donn, I'm no' entirely okay, but I will be, if I distract myself fer a bit."

Her own smile goes coy, "What sort of distraction did you have in mind?"

"Yer eyes tell me ye already ken."

They both take a second to look each other over, his stirring gaze making her cheeks heat as she takes in his fine form.

She's going to try her damn best to get him to forget everything that just happened, to drive him so mad with lust all he can think of is pleasure. She's going to soak him in it until he can't take it anymore.

The last time they did this she'd been all about denial—and while there still will be some of that because it's her favourite and makes the orgasms that much sweeter—this time will be all about his pleasure and less about her control of it and testing his limits.

She hadn't dressed up this time, hadn't wanted to be uncomfortable and constricted as they spoke, but now she's regretting that choice just a little. Some extra frivolous lingerie might help get them both in the mood, and she knows how he loves to look at her, especially her ass, which the bodysuit she's thinking of shows off perfectly. Just a flash of the back view and she'll have him drooling and distracted.

"I'm just going to go change quickly, wait here for me," she says before surprising him with a heated kiss. It only takes him a second to catch up but he does it's all heat and passion. He moans into her mouth as she nips at his bottom lip the way she's recently discovered he likes so much. They kiss and kiss, and when it breaks they are both breathing heavily. She hovers her mouth above his, barely an inch between their lips as she orders, "Don't move, I'll be back."

Jumping into dominating him, when a discussion of that is what set him off maybe isn't the smartest thing, but it's what he asked for, and she trusts he knows best what he needs, and what will work for him.

It doesn't take her long at all to change, whipping off her pants and sweater and tossing them into the laundry basket then rustling through her drawer until she finds what she was looking for.

It's a black keyhole bodysuit with a high cut up the thigh, open at the back to her hips, with a thong. It goes great with leather gloves, black heels and crop, but she'll set those aside for today—maybe not the heels though.

She digs out her black stilettos and a look in the mirror tells her she made the right choice. She looks damn good, and she's certain Jamie's going to love it.

She struts into the room, head held high, and watches as his jaw drops.

"Wow, ye look… Christ, ye're sae beautiful."

He's so sweet, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't looking forward to seeing how he takes to dirty talk. She's looking forward to corrupting him, to loosening up that tongue and hearing filthy sentiments flow off of it. She got a glimpse of it the last time they did this, and she can't wait to see it develop.

When she turns so he can admire the back, the groan he lets out makes it all worth it. She turns over her shoulder and blows him a flirty kiss, smirking proudly at how heated his gaze is, and the half mast in his jeans.

She struts across the room a few times, doing her best impression of a runway walk, and delighting in his reaction to it. Frank had never really responded to her lingerie, feeling that it just covered up all the best parts which she can understand, but it's so nice to get a reaction because these pieces make _her_ feel sexy.

She approaches slowly, bending down just as slow, sticking her chest in his face for a moment before fiddling with the zipper of his jeans, pushing the constricting denim down his hips.

She doesn't take them off, just frees his semi, then slides onto his lap sideways, wrapping her arms around his neck resting her ass on his thighs as her legs dangle beside his left.

She waits to see what he'll do, letting the anticipation stew.

He doesn't touch her, but she knows he's itching to, and that turns her on.

The words that finally come out his mouth aren't the beg to touch her she expected and leave her quite confused. "At the top o' the contract, can I put _Sassenach_?"

"What?"

"It says to list what I call ye and I'm wonderin', can I call ye Sassenach?"

Realization dawns on her, and that's fine, she thinks, except, "Isn't that an insult?"

The way he grimaces is adorable, and she has to fight the urge to kiss him as he tells her, "Aye, but I dinna mean it like tha'. You did say to pick somethin' I wouldna call ye outside of the bedroom…"

She did say that, and so she teases, "I thought I told you degradation was a limit."

But her joke doesn't land properly and he grimaces again. "My apologies, Mistress."

She put her finger on his lips to stop him as she shakes her head, "No, I like it, let's try it. Call me Sassenach tonight unless I tell you otherwise."

"Aye, Sassenach."

That should not be hot, she normally hates derogatory terms, but damn is it ever. She thinks they'll be keeping this one. She likes it, and it's very him. He's the only man she knows who could take what is normally an insult and make it an expression of affection.

"I'd like you to kiss me now, Jamie. But keep your hands to yourself." He pouts for a half a second then her hand is on this throat, and she's admonishing, "And watch the attitude, I won't tolerate it."

He gulps and nods, waiting for her to move her hand before leaning in to kiss her. For several moments that's all they do, mouths moving and connecting as he fights the urge to touch her. His kisses grow more desperate as the passionate make out session goes on, until he gasps, "Please, please let me touch ye, Sassenach."

That was what she was waiting for, but she stops to clarify, "Touch me where?"

"Anywhere ye want, Sassenach."

That sends a flash of heat down her spine, she knows exactly where she wants him to touch her, today will include a lesson, she's already decided that. It's time for Jamie Fraser to learn how to use those dexterous fingers on her (and in her), but the anticipation is good for both of them, so she places his hand on her thigh and shivers as he runs it up and down at a tantalizingly slow pace, his fingers just barely grazing her. It has her nerve endings on high alert, and she claims his mouth for another heated kiss as she moans softly.

After a series of open-mouthed kisses she directs his mouth down to her jaw, delighting in the way his lips feel against the sensitive skin there, and the roughness of his stubble against her.

She keeps her one hand on his shoulder for stability but uses the other to direct him, biting her nails into his hair in the way that makes him shiver when she wants him to linger.

She can feel herself growing damp as he makes his way down her neck, and that's when she takes back control (not that she ever gave it up).

She kisses him, hard and hot, nipping at his lower lip then sucking softly on his tongue when she finishes, relishing in the low groan it draws out of him.

Then she feasts on his neck, peppers his jaw with nibbling kisses and trails down his left side, up the centre and back down the right. By the time she's finished, he's fully hard and panting, just how she wants him.

"How do you want me, Jamie?" she breathes, and he gasps before answering.

"However ye like, Sassenach," he pants, and that, while sexy, is not what she was looking for.

"I'm actually asking, so tell me, or I won't give you anything."

She wants this time to be more about him, about what he wants, and she needs direction in order to ensure it is.

He bites at his lip considering or gathering his nerves she's not sure, but then he's telling her, "I've been thinkin' of yer mouth since the last time. Christ, that was about the best thing I ever felt."

That's more like it, and since he did as asked, she will too. But first she's going to rid him of his clothes, and to do that, they need to resituate.

She manages to get his shirt off from their current position. Then she stops, shifting so she's straddling him so she can torture them both. With a soft push, his jeans fall down onto the floor at his ankles, leaving him in only his boxers. She's leaning back a bit, her hands running down the firm plains of his chest, watching as he inhales sharply at her touch.

She yearns to rock against him, ease the ache that's beginning to build between her thighs, but she's not quite done admiring his fine chest yet.

She leans forward so she can kiss his pecks, smirking as the muscle twitches in response.

"Talk to me, Jamie. Tell me how it feels," she requests before descending down again.

"Oh, Christ, so good, Sassenach. Yer mouth, God, there's nothin' like it. Canna tell ye how many times I thought o' this."

"Thought of what exactly? Tell me and it's yours."

He swallows heavily, and she worries for a second his inexperience and bashfulness is going to get in the way, but he tells her, "Yer lips on my skin, the way it feels when ye suck, when you bite at me. The feel of yer hands on me, God, it's everything. Just like this, but ye kept going…"

She plays innocent for a second, sitting back and asking, "Kept going how?"

Much to her surprise and relief, he doesn't hesitate, "Ye'd kiss down my chest, suck at my nipples, then go down father, until my breath was ragged with anticipation…"

"And then?"

"Then ye'd take off my pants, get down on yer knees and take me in yer mouth the way you did the last time. Christ, that was… just the thought gets me all riled up."

Even though she already knows the answer she still asks, "You like my mouth on you?"

He nods vigorously, "So much so, Sassenach, ye're amazing."

"Well, I think that can be arranged," she teases, before kissing his lips softly and descending down, down, down.

When she reaches his nipples, she studiously avoids them, kissing all around one before crossing over to the other, never actually touching the pebbled peak. She laughs softly at the way he curses under his breath when he realizes her intent.

"Can't have it that easy," she ribs, before returning to her task.

"Apparently not," he breathes, and in response she nips hard, his _ow_ sounding at the same time as her _What did I say about sass?_

"Right, no sassing the sassenach, got it."

That makes her chuckle, and they both snicker for a second before she tamps it down in favour of finally meandering her tongue across his nipple. He chokes out a moan as that amused and impressed with himself expression falls from his face.

"You like that?" she asks, then rolls her tongue over his nipple. He jerks and moans, answering her without words, so she does it again, and again.

His breath is coming out in sharp, quick pants as she makes her way to the other side, giving this one a firm suck that has him letting out this noise that goes right between her thighs.

She repeats the action and he repeats that sound, making an even better one when she takes him between her teeth and nips at him. He likes the bites, she remembers that from last time, but she was not prepared for how it lights him up this time.

"Christ, Sassenach, I need—" he cuts off on a moan as his hips buck, and god, this is so hot. She loves seeing him go to putty for her.

She bites back up his chest and all the while he's moaning and gasping, right up until her lips claim his again. Then he kisses her back, a bit sloppily but spilling all of his pent up energy into the kiss. She anchors her hands on his neck, pulling herself in closer without breaking the kiss, so she can grind against where he's so hard.

He gasps into the kiss and she starts to grind harder, the delicious friction making her start to pant. She feels her nipples go tight as he lets out another desperate sound, and she needs their clothes off now, needs nothing separating them, needs his mouth on her, his tongue on her, his fingers, his…

"Sassenach, I'm, mm, please. Christ, c-close."

That just makes her want him more, and she breathes a firm, "You are not coming this soon," as she reluctantly slows her hips into a torturously languid pace.

He curses under his breath, then again more loudly when she nips at his neck in admonishment.

"As I told you before, you can't have it that easy," she teases, and his head falls back on a groan as he breathes _Yes, Sassenach._

He is quite the sight right now, tense, pent up and breathing hard, his chest and face flushed, his lips swollen, cock jutting up in his boxers. She's sure she's in a similar state, if the way his eyes darken as he takes her in is any indication.

She has him just where she wants him, and now it's time to have even more fun.

* * *

They had a hiccup earlier, but she's managed to banish it entirely from his mind, with those hot kisses, and firm grinds, with how good she looks and how great she feels.

He's close already, the intensity of his earlier emotional outburst, having given way to an intense longing for her. He felt off-kilter at first, but as soon as she changed into that outfit, it was like a switch flipped inside him, and all he wanted was her. By the time she started kissing down his chest his earlier unease had completely left his mind, as he hoped it would.

While distracting himself with sex is probably not the best way to deal with his feelings, or even a healthy one, it feels too damn good for him to care.

All he wants is her, all he can focus on is her, and that's exactly what he needed to pull himself out of it.

Now he's waiting for her, again, and the air is charged as his anticipation grows.

He has no idea what she has planned, but he sure is looking forward to experiencing it. The last time was the greatest pleasure he's ever experienced, and he can't wait to feel that again. He didn't know it could feel that good, that holding back and delaying his release could make it so powerful. It's something he's started trying for himself, but it's not the same without Claire.

He lights up when she commands him, finds a strength he didn't know he had to hold back when she asks it of him. It turns him on to follow her directions, to satisfy her with his obedience.

He is so hard right now, has those pleasant little ripples in his lower belly as he waits on her, taking this time to look her over again, and groaning over how this bodysuit shows off her tits. He remembers how great her ass looked in it earlier and practically drools over the mental image. He wants to grab it, wants to touch her, kiss her, bring her pleasure, over and over, but that is her call and he will not disobey—no matter how much he wants it, wants her.

Thankfully, she doesn't make him wait too long. She stands up, giving him a very nice view of how this thing accentuates her ass. She has such a great ass, and great legs, great everything really, but those are exceptionally attractive, and he finds himself staring more than he should. She doesn't mind, though, has told him so, after she caught him obviously ogling her and he'd blushed and stammered through a ridiculous apology she's giggled at.

"Stand up, Jamie," she tells him and he's up in seconds, so intent on following her order and expeditiously that he forgets about his jeans at his ankles and nearly falls over.

Her amusement over his little blunder is barely concealed as she murmurs, "You can step out of those."

That he does, leaving himself in his socks and boxers. She runs cold and keeps her place warm, something he's grateful for at this moment because he's comfortable even in this state of undress.

"Lose the socks," is her next command, followed by an order to neatly arrange his strewn clothes on the couch.

If someone had told him before tonight he'd find folding clothes sexy he would have laughed in their face, but right here right now, it is.

She watches him as he collects and folds his clothes in a neat little pile, then he turns back to her, awaiting her next request.

She beckons him closer with the curl of a finger, and he takes three steps toward her before her hand raises and stops him.

She looks him up and down, and he warms under her gaze.

"You're a beautiful man, Jamie Fraser," she compliments and he feels his cheeks flush even harder. He responds with a lame _thank you_ because he's not sure what else to say.

She steps in and he thinks she's going to kiss him, but instead she passes by him, coming up behind him. He braces himself for a second, then wills himself to relax. She's not afraid of his back, has told him she barely notices it and he tries his best to believe her.

It's not that he thinks she's lying or coddling him, he trusts her to be honest with him, it's just he's raw today, and that sense of insecurity is welling up despite his best efforts to keep it at bay. He shivers slightly, then her slight body is pressed flush against his back and he lets out a shaky breath.

A soft, "So attractive," sounds off in his ear, then she's nipping it between her teeth, and pleasure ripples down him, firming back up his erection that had started to soften.

She kisses down his neck, her fingers running through his hair in a deliciously pleasant way that has him twitching. She's exploring him, her pace slow and measured as she kisses what feels like every inch of the back of his neck and shoulders, lingering on the spots that make him pant and gasp, chuckling lightly every time she unearths a new hot spot.

He hadn't known there were so many sensitive spots back there, and he looks forward to someday being granted the ability to do this for her, to discover and exploit all of her sensitive spots.

But for now, he just basks, right up until her mouth leaves his shoulder and trails down. He flinches involuntarily, but then her hand is snaking down into his boxers, is on his cock stroking firmly, and he lets out a guttural groan.

He feels nervous, but also on edge, is succumbing to the pleasure of her hand. It's a distraction, pulls away the edges of insecurity.

Before her mouth meets marred skin, he hears her soft and sweet, somehow quieting the rising nerves as she asks, "Is this okay?"

He's trembling and can't keep the shake out of his voice. "Isn't that your call?"

She somehow rests her head on his shoulder, whispering, "It's yours. What I can and cannot do to your body is always your call, Jamie."

He lets out another shaky breath, and she presses her body more firmly into his, her hand leaving his cock and wrapping around him in a tender embrace.

He feels a surge of warm affection for her, for the way she cares for him, and takes care of him. She's more apt to show her feelings with actions than to vocalize them, and he feels them in this embrace, basks in this soft, intimate moment. Maybe he shouldn't be getting so besotted over a simple hug, but it means so much more, and he's too in love with her to not fall all over himself every time they have one of these moments.

"I'm going to continue," she says after a beat. "If anything makes you uncomfortable, please tell me to stop."

"Aye, Sa-assenach," he says, stumbling on the last word because her hands are pushing down his boxers. Once he's free of them, her hand rests on his erection, giving him soft, slow strokes that stoke the embers of his arousal as she explores his back.

He's a little uncomfortable, but he doesn't want her to stop, it just takes him a while to ease into it, to rid himself of the insecurities that are telling him that she's disgusted by his back. He knows better than that, she's shown him that, and he banishes the thoughts when they enter his mind and focuses on the teasing pressure of her hand. She peppers his skin with kisses and as he relaxes, and he begins to find the pleasure in that. His back is sensitive in a way he hadn't realized, and soon he finds himself leaning into her kisses instead of fighting the urge to pull away.

He tenses again when she reaches his lower back, unsure how far down she's going to go, but she stops.

She spins him around with surprisingly strong arms and crashes their lips together, her hot, heady kisses somehow making him even harder.

She pushes him down toward the floor, straddling him once he's down and grinding against his cock in firm passes. She's so warm against him, and it's all gasps and moans into the space between them as she picks up the pace.

This feels so damn good, and he can feel her getting wetter as it goes on, is starting to be able to feel it through her lingerie which turns him on even more.

He reaches for her hips without thought, and her hands are on him in a second, pinning them down on the floor by his head as she rocks on top of him. She is quite the sight, and he wants her so damn badly, is getting close again, but he wants to get her off, wants to see that, wants her to show him how. His needs can wait, he wants to bring her pleasure.

But she's going faster now, harder somehow and he feels that tightening in his lower belly, so pants out, "Sassenach, I canna, you need tae stop."

"You can and you will," she commands, and that just drives him even closer.

He bites down on his cheek, tries to push away the begging need in his cock, but barely a minute passes and he feels himself at the end of his tether. He has to close his eyes, the sight of her combined with the feeling of her is too much.

He cannot keep the desperation out of his voice as he begs, "I canna, please, please stop, Sassenach, I canna hold it in, _please_."

She stills her hips but her weight is still against him and he throbs, the pleasure still wound tight and trying to explode out. He takes a few deep breaths and that edge starts to back away, though the wanting only increases.

When he opens his eyes again, she's looking down at him and smirking. She starts to descend down his body and he groans, summoning all of his willpower to beg her off. "No, please, Sassenach, I want tae, mmm, please ye. Please, Sassenach, let me touch you. Let me learn what you like."

Her face is mere inches from his cock and her tongue peeks out between her teeth. His cock bobs and throbs from the image of her tongue on it, which makes her smirk grow.

"Are you sure about that, Jamie?" she asks, giving him a slow stroke, "It seems like something here is in need of attention first."

Maybe he should just let that happen, but he remembers how explosive it was the last time after having to wait for so long, remembers watching her get herself off with that vibrator, how he could barely hold it together after that and how her every touch felt absolutely incredible.

"With yer permission, I'd like tae see tae you first."

Her eyebrows raise and though he asked for it, he still groans in dismay when her hand leaves his cock.

She stands up, holding out a hand to him and helping him up to his feet.

"Let's go to my bedroom," she says, her hand still in his as she leads him toward it.

He is powerless to resist her. Though his cock is aching, he takes pleasure in that, in denying himself because he knows how much sweeter the orgasm will be because of this wait. He cannot wait to see her get off again, and if he's able to do it himself, well Christ, he doesn't know how he'll last through that.

They kiss and kiss as they enter the bedroom, and she gives him free rein of her body (or at least that's what he makes of the way she places his hands on her ass, and moans as they coast up and down her back before settling back on the swell and squeezing). She has him pressed up against her door, but he's giving it back as good as he can. His hands are restless, can't stop moving up and down her body now that he's been given the okay. Her skin is so smooth, so soft—as is this fabric—and he cannot get enough of her. His one hand is tangled in hair, and god, he loves her hair, loves to run his fingers through her curls as he is now.

She breaks the kiss to breathe, and he fights the urge to pout as she steps back and away from him. But she's beckoning him toward her, then telling him to take off her clothes and there is nothing else he'd rather be doing.

He strips her slowly, slides one strap down her arm, then the other, before pulling the whole piece down to reveal her breasts, her nipples hard and begging to be sucked. He's going to ask her for it, to let him, but first he pulls it down farther, until it sinks down her legs and onto the floor, leaving her only in her heels.

Christ alive, she is stunning. He is so so lucky to get to be with her like this, to see her like this. He tells her just how gorgeous she is as he gets down onto his knees so he can help her step out of it. It's a position she likes him in, she told him as much, and he is more than happy to stay down here if she'd like that. He has an incredibly hot view right now, is right between her legs looking up at her fine fully naked form. He has to take a moment here to cool down, because she looks so fucking fantastic—something about her in the heels alone is ungodly hot.

Bless her, she keeps them on as she runs her fingers through his hair, drawing his face closer to her crotch.

It's then that his nerves flare because he has no idea what he's doing. As much as he wants to service her, to use his mouth on her and bring her pleasure over and over and over again, he is terrified of being terrible at it.

Sure, he's watched porn, so he has vague ideas of what could work, but he also knows that that's all fake. In the last week, he has spent a considerable amount of time on the internet trying to find practical tips, but everything he read was contradictory and left him more confused, and whatever small glimmer of confidence he had melted away, leaving him certain he'd mess this up.

He's always told her she has a glass face, but his must be as well in this moment because she's smiling down at him and reassuring, "I love that you haven't done this before, no bad habits to break, no false confidence or ego I have to worry about hurting when I show you how I like it. I always want to teach, but not everyone is eager to learn. But you are, aren't you, Jamie?"

He nods eagerly, rushing out a far too desperate, "God, yes!" as he feels his nerves simmer down and his arousal flare back up at the idea of her teaching him.

"This isn't the ideal position for your lesson, but I like it. Why don't you get acquainted before we move to the bed?

He's not entirely sure what she means by that, but she widens her legs and he takes a moment to just look at her, taking in her toned stomach, the indent of her hips, that vee down to her sex. As he stares, he begins to understand why she said this wasn't ideal because the parts he really wants to explore remain tucked away.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, and she inhales sharply and nods, their eyes locked until his drop to her thigh to provide those promised kisses.

He kisses up her right thigh to her hip, then across and down the other side as she moans and encourages him. He means to do it again and get closer to her sex but she stops him.

"Come to bed, Jamie," escapes her lips, and he has to swallow back a moan in response.

He kisses her fiercely once they are both on the bed, and her gasp of surprise melts into one of pleasure when he nibbles down her neck.

She pulls him fully on top of her, and he starts to go down her body, but she stops him again with a _Wait_ that has him internally cursing the denial aspect of this.

Thankfully, it's a quick stop, her propping her hips up with a pillow, "for easier access," and allowing him to continue.

He's perhaps too quick going down to her chest, but they've been at this for ages, and he's fairly certain she's almost as turned on as he is.

The first lick over her nipple has her arching into his mouth, her one hand coming to his hair and pressing him more firmly into her, a direction he is happy to take. When he sucks her between his lips, the sound she lets out has him throbbing and it takes all of his control not to drop a hand down and stroke himself to relieve some of this pressure.

"God, that's so good— _Fuck,_ Jamie I—so so good," she moans, and he feels a rush of pride and relief. All he wants is to bring her pleasure, and it appears he's succeeding.

He follows her directions, the whimpered praises, and it all serves to keep him rock solid for her. How anyone wouldn't want to do this to their partner is beyond him, he'd stay here all night if she asked.

She loses the heels at some point, they get kicked off as she thrashes about under his attention.

He continues to tease and suck at her breasts until she's breathless and writhing, only moving on when she vocalizes her need for more in soft pleas that are the hottest goddamn thing he's ever heard.

He kisses down her stomach as her moans grow more desperate, her hips rocking up into nothing as she spreads her legs further and shows off how wet and slick she is. How wet and slick he's made her. He's still a bit nervous, but he's made it this far, and she's very clear with what she wants, gives directions he hasn't had any trouble following, so this should be okay.

Of course he wants to be more than okay, wants to rock her world, but he thinks he just might be able to do that if he listens carefully and implements exactly what she says.

Her first direction is a simple one to follow, he runs his index finger along her outer lips, feeling the skin, and watching as she shivers under the light touch. Moving inward is a command he's happy to take, and does so, feeling the difference in this softer, slickened skin.

"Touch me, Jamie," she breathes, and he's about to ask where exactly when she follows up with, "Rub my clit, I _need_ it."

She really does, because her hips buck as he ghosts over it, and he has to bring his other hand in to hold her down so her thrashing doesn't dislodge him.

"Harder, please god, harder," she pants, and he rubs her harder up and down, watching as she throws her head back, her mouth open as a low moan falls from it.

He does that for a few minutes, paying attention to how different strokes and caresses make her react. He tries two fingers but quickly goes back to one after she tells him she likes that better. She makes a point to tell him what is good, to make suggestions and when to keep going. She likes it this way, the firm rubs up and down. He thinks he's got a good pressure down by the way her every breath is a hitching pant that stutters out and the way she hissed _Yes, like that_ a few moments before.

"Mmm, Jamie—" she cuts off on a moan and while her saying his name like that is one of the hottest things he's ever heard, he knows that wasn't all she meant to say.

"Yes, Sassneach?" he queries as he keeps rubbing firmly, making her moan in that utterly erotic way.

"C-c-cir-cles."

He stops for a second to clarify, cursing himself when she huffs, but the quick break allows her to explain that she wants him to rub circles or spirals as opposed to the up and down he was doing, so he's glad he stopped to ask.

He watches as she builds up and up, and he focuses on keeping this up exactly as it is, because it's working for her. Christ, this is hot, she is so hot, and he is so glad this is working for her, that he is getting to experience this.

"Inssside, mmm—"

That's a direction he doesn't need clarification on and he slides his finger down and inside her. He's searching for the spongy spot that should be her g-spot, at least according to his research. She is so hot and wet around his finger, and the thought of all of this around his cock is too much.

He doesn't think too much on that because she's begging, "Another, and thumb on my clit, please, Jamie."

That he can do, he sinks another finger into her and it goes in so easily, her body sucking him in. The thumb part is a little harder and his coordination is off at first, but he soon finds a way to thrust his fingers into her and rub her clit at the same time without throwing off the motion.

He presses and curls his fingers, seeking and probing, moving them ever so slightly each time until she groans and tightens against him. He thinks he's got it, and she gasps out _There_ a second later, letting him know he does.

He loves how she vocalizes it, isn't sure if that's just for him or something she does, but it's so helpful and _so hot_.

He keeps his fingers hitting there, and firms up the pressure against her clit, which makes her moans increase, until she's gasping out, "Oh fuck, that's it, jesus, fuck, don't stop, don't stop, oh god."

He doesn't, he won't, and tells her as much as she tightens against his fingers. She's getting even wetter as she lets out these moans that leave him dizzy with want.

Just when he thinks he can't take it anymore, she tenses and wails, clenching on his fingers in an untempered pattern as her thighs shake. Her mouth falls open as loud moans fall from it, her eyes squeezed shut, her cheeks red, her chest flushed. She's such a sight right now. His cock begs for release, but he keeps his focus on his fingers, on bringing her this pleasure.

Then her body sags into the bed, the tension leaving it as her cries grow softer and her hand squeezes his.

He stops his thumb, but doesn't remove his fingers, continues to press them into her, waiting for her signal as he watches her. The soft, sleepy smiles she gives him when her eyes finally open has him falling even more in love with her. He leans in and gives her a soft peck, one that she returns in kind.

They trade soft kisses as he aches with need, until he asks, "Was that okay, Sassenach?"

* * *

She would laugh at the absurdity of the question if she wasn't still half-mad from bliss. He is damn good with his fingers, and she can only imagine how much better it will be once he has some practice under his belt. He takes direction like a champ, and maybe that's because he's so inexperienced, but it's amazing to have someone listen and take her cues so well.

She's still throbbing and warm all over, his fingers still pressing into that spot and addling her mind. She wants him again, is tempted to let him do just that all over again, but she wants him in it with her.

The second orgasm for her always comes easier than the first, especially when the sensation never stops. She's half-way there already, and her oversensitivity will work to their advantage.

She stills his hand, grabbing it when he pulls it from her and brings it to her mouth. She sucks her taste off of his fingers, and the way he groans at that has heat flashing down her.

"Christ, that was hot, Sassenach," he breathes, and she just smirks.

He wanted her mouth on him, but she wants to grind off on him and doubts he'll last through that long enough for her to suck him off. She will if he does, but if not, she'll do it after, will bring him back up and send him off again. She wonders how many times he can go, how many times she could bring him up and over before he couldn't take anymore, a project for another day for sure.

Today though, she's going to slide against his hard cock, feel that delicious friction against her clit and pin him down, because she knows he'll like it.

She pushes at his chest, his firm, gorgeous chest she hasn't spent nearly enough time admiring tonight, and kisses him into the mattress, flipping them so she's on top. He kicks one of her heels and she hears it clank against the footboard, but they are too caught up in what they are doing to pay it any mind.

Her hands traverse his chest and abs as she starts to rock on top of him, relishing in the desperate groan he lets out at the much needed friction. She understands, has heat flaring out as her clit drags against where he's so hard. She gasps at the sharp pleasure as she moves up and down him, getting him wetter and slicker from her, allowing her to slide more smoothly with each pass. God, this is exactly what she needs.

His hands come to her ass, groping it, a move she encourages until another idea comes to her head.

She grabs his hands and pins them above his head and he groans, a sound that goes right between her thighs. She rocks faster, harder, and she's close, can feel the tension building as the pleasure increases, and fuck, this is perfect.

She remembers what he said about choking earlier and puts her one hand on his throat, not squeezing or constricting in anyway, just the weight of her palm against him, and he lights up. His eyes widen and he sucks in a sharp breath before moaning loudly, his reaction pushing her even closer. She can feel everything tighten as the pleasure inside her surges.

"Keep your hands there," she commands as she frees his hands for better leverage, bracing her weight in her one palm as the other rests on his neck.

His body tenses, eyes squeezing shut, and she doesn't need the whimpered, "Sae close, Sassenach," to know that he is but enjoys the hell out of it.

"Just one more minute, hang on for me, I'm almost there."

She is, is so _so_ close, and Jamie nods without opening his eyes—he looks so hot right now, she can't take it. He is so unbelievably gorgeous when he's on edge like this and fighting it. It's an image she tries to imprint in her mind as she fights to keep her own eyes open amidst the intense sensation.

"Sassenach, I canna, please, please, I need ye tae come fer me, please, Sassenach. I need tae see it, and I canna hold it in. I'm sae close, feels amazin'."

She is right on edge, drawn tight like a bowstring, each slide against him building the pleasure up even higher. Her thighs are so tense, her lower abs drawn so tight, everything pulling inward toward the bliss. He won't need to last much longer at all, and she goes to tell him that but feels him tense beneath her as he groans wildly. She looks down and sees that first spurt land between them, and all of the sensations combine together to send her over the edge.

She shrieks as orgasm overtakes her, pleasure surging out from her clit in delicious waves that wash away all the tension. She shakes and shudders, losing her rhythm entirely as she rides out the last of it before falling onto his chest.

She can feel the sticky warmth of his release between them, really should have cleaned up before flopping onto him but it's too late now, and she can't muster the energy to deal with it just yet. Not when she cuddles up into him and listens to his racing heartbeat start to slow, as hers does the same.

They stay snuggled up and catching their breath for a few minutes, then she looks up at him and he grimaces, prompting her to ask, "What's wrong?"

"Well, ye dinna say I could come, and I tried but…" That is true, something she'd forgotten in her post-orgasmic haze, and she goes to assure him but he continues, "Sae I guess I need tae be punished."

She kisses his chest, then makes her way to his lips kissing them softly before pulling away so she can tell him, "You are off the hook this time, I told you to hang on until I came, and you made it long enough that I could get off, which is all I wanted."

A grin grows across his face until he's beaming, and she cannot resist bending down for another kiss.

They trade more soft, intimate afterglow kisses until he breaks one to breathe, "That was amazing."

She sighs, "It really was."

"Is it… usual... how it is between us?"

She frowns, not understanding, "What do you mean?"

"What it is between us when I touch you, when ye kiss me…?"

It dawns on her then what he meant and she shakes her head. "No, it's not usual, Jamie," and indeed it is not. She's almost frightened by the depth of feelings she has for this beautiful, complex man.

It was never like this with Frank, even before he got paranoid about emasculation, there was always this edge of shame that bled through, despite that her dominating him was his idea. An aura of unease and discomfort that permeated their relationship filtered into the bedroom. There is none of that with Jamie. She feels cared for, trusted and free to be herself, something she hasn't felt comfortable being in a long time.

She's not ready or willing to get into the why that is just yet, so she kisses him again before he can ask anymore questions, and sets her sights on rocking his world, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and giving this a shot. Just wanted to warn that updates to this verse will be infrequent because it’s a slow write and I have other projects but I really appreciate all the love and support.


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